Chapter 7: Chapter 7

We skipped down the rest of the corridor without adventure, stopping at the door that led to a large room where Mendeville's men were on the defensive against the soldiers attacking from the street. Shouts, the rustle of downed rods, and the occasional sound of spells being cast came from there with great intensity, indicating an intense battle, and the heat vision clearly depicted fifteen enemy figures, which Martha immediately marked as unfriendly targets.

I gesture to my companions to stay behind me, and quickly look around the corner to assess the situation. It wouldn't hurt to know how freely we could move when we decided to attack. My eyes only show enemies, but they don't take into account objects that don't radiate heat. It would be a shame to run into a rubble, crash into a barricade, or get our feet tangled in a trap set and step on each other's heads. I take a quick glance around the room, remembering every detail of the interior and the position of the opponents, and turn my head back to avoid being spotted before my time.

My fears were unfounded: the place is a mess, but there's plenty of room to maneuver.

"About three..." I whisper to the dark elves that it's time to begin.

"One..." I lean out again, stretching my arm toward the heavy oak doors, which are also the front door of the mansion. - "Two..." I force myself to force the mana through my limb, and into the rune imprinted on my gloved hand. - "Three."

As the mana flew off my palm, I burst into the room myself. The girls, keeping up with me, slid behind me, keeping behind me. The projectile I'd fired cracked the front door, breaking both shutters from their mounts and dropping them on the porch with a crash. From the passageway, the soldiers looked on with stunned eyes as they broke formation around the small battering ram with which they were going to break the door down. The defenders, too, were taken aback for a moment, obviously not expecting an attack from the back.

Did they really think those four idiots would be enough to stop us? Amazing naivety...

I pull my Hi-Clink, twisting it in my hand, and charge into the mansion's defenders. The closest opponent, standing a few meters away from me, gets a sharp blade in the neck. I yank the knife out and kick the corpse away, dodging the blade of the sword that whizzed by my face. I step up and punch my fist into the elbow of my unfinished foe, causing him to drop his weapon from his broken limb with a howl. I intercept his sword in the air and cut the bastard into two jagged pieces with a U-turn.

Behind me I hear a wheeze, and with a glance back I see Delva kill her opponent.

The purple-haired pixie was standing side by side with me, not a step behind. In another situation it would have been hard for her to keep up with a superhuman like me, but now that we were inside the building, she managed it, and quite well.

My sluggish musings didn't keep me from paying close attention to my surroundings, so I easily spotted the dagger flying toward the girl, immediately knocking it down with the help of a shield my foot had conveniently planted next to it. The projectile, knocked out of its trajectory, flew away, and I kicked the padded piece of wood at the hapless thrower. The shield flies right down his throat, breaking his throat and robbing him of his life.

The thundering shots of the shotgun and the sound of the bolt mechanism were organically added to the general confusion. Chloe kept behind us, carefully following us and shooting those enemies who tried to get around our sides. She moved like a real professional, as if she had spent her whole life with a firearm in her hands.

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The sight of the two of them fighting side by side with me brought to mind the image of my dead brothers with whom I'd once been in a similar fight. A faint smile crept out of my face, and with a particular eagerness I slid back into the fray, shaking off the obsession. And somewhat surprised by this comparison. Me and the boys are handsome, sure, but the posh dark elves aren't even close. Such a flight of fancy can only mean one thing: I finally got used to my new surroundings and fully accept it as my life, and the intelligent creatures around me as my companions and family.

I was in the middle of a battle, and the warriors from Feoh had joined in full force, ramming into me through the passageway I had so kindly given them. With shields, they pushed the mercenaries back toward us. The already small number of enemies began to dwindle even more swiftly at first. But even so they managed to kill a couple of our guys, because they were all under the substances, just like the four in the corridor. And even though the concentration was noticeably lower, they still felt no pain and launched suicidal attacks, trying to take the enemy's life at the cost of their own. Unfortunately, not without success.

Leading the gang is a mage, huddled in a corner, dodging attacks from one side of us and the soldiers on the other. At the same time, he occasionally threw some nasty stuff, from which I watched one soldier's arm rotted up to his elbow. Luckily, the guy was dragged back by his allies, moaning through clenched teeth as he struggled to avoid death.

The gun was in his hand instantly. A brief aim. A shot.

But the bullet hits not the target, but the stupor that covered the sorcerer with his body.

Where did he come from?

He made a wry movement with his hand from behind his life shield, and cast a spell of rot in my direction, though, through the crookedness of his creator, it landed not on me but on Delva, who was standing nearby.

"Watch out!" - I pulled the girl sharply to me, and, holding her weight, twisted around myself, shifting to the side and letting the filth pass by.

"I hate fucking mages!" - I let go of my precious burden and jerk to the side, closer to the wall where the massive wooden table stood. I grabbed it and threw it at the gypsy magician with a swing. He was the one who had nothing to hide. The heavy tabletop just blew both him and his subwoman away. No more of them were moving.

Finishing off the rest was a matter of technique. Without the magician's support, they were gone in a minute, leaving the entire first floor behind us. The rest of the building went off without a hitch. The second floor was emptied by the girls, who went straight upstairs. They were a little lucky, because the second sorcerer, who was there, had not expected an attack from the back and was the first to lie down. The others who were there were only able to inflict a couple of light wounds on the dark elves. For warriors, each of whom had at least fifty years of combat experience behind them, mere mercenaries were no match, even when pumped full of chemistry.

The third floor was almost empty: the remaining servants and a couple of brought slave girls were kept there. Mendeville's son, whose bellowing, kicking carcass was already being carried down the stairs, was also hiding there.

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